


The Silence of This

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Shattered [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Annoying child, Gen, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 09:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Singing.</p><p>Tom could hear singing. </p><p>He always heard singing. </p><p>Night and day. </p><p>Day and night. </p><p>While he was thankful Black had managed to wrangle it he could go to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer, it came with a high price: her constant singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silence of This

**Disclaimer: If you know it, it will be “Tiny Toon Adventures Theme Song” written by Bruce Broughton, Tom Ruegger, and Wayne Kaatz, “Be Our Guest” written by Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman, “Never Smile at a Crocodile” words by Jack Lawrence and msuic by Frank Churchill, “The Song That Never Ends” written by Norman Martin (using lyrics used in _Lamb Chop’s Play Along_ ), or finally “You’re a Mean One, Mr Grinch” lyrics by Theodor “Dr Deuss” Geisel, music by Albert Hague. I own none of that. Or Harry Potter. **

* * *

Singing.

Tom could hear singing. 

He always heard singing. 

Night and day. 

Day and night. 

While he was thankful Black had managed to wrangle it he could go to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer, it came with a high price: her constant singing. 

No matter where in the castle Tom located himself, he could either hear her or feel her. Singing. The magic she produced when she wanted seeped into his skin, no matter where the hell she was. 

He could handle it when he couldn’t HEAR her, but when his ears were bombarded by the same five songs on constant loop, he had a breaking point. While he would admit, under duress and torture— meaning never— she could sing, he was going to begin to yank his hair out soon.

She claimed she knew more than fives songs, but he swore it was only five. And he’d never heard of them before and they were all Muggle songs. There was the Smile Song, the Rainbow Song, the Chimney Song, a song about yesterday and tomorrow, the Under the Sea song she sang in the Slytherin Common room on loop. She turned up her nose each time someone tried to introduce her to a few wizard standards. That little pert nose turned up and she insisted the wizarding society was stuck in the Barque period. 

Dumbledore encouraged her. He even LEARNED THE SONGS and SUNG WITH HER. Dumbledore’s favorite song was the One That Never Ended. Seriously, it NEVER ENDED. It looped over and over till you wanted to stuff your ears with cotton. 

_This is the song that doesn’t ends, yes it goes on and on my friends. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it because this is the song that doesn’t ends…._

Great. Now it was on loop in his head. AGAIN.

Slamming his head down on the desk in the library where he was trying to research spells for his diary project that would PREVENT her from ever showing up in his life, he could hear her stomping around and singing at the top of her lungs about how mean Mr. Grinch happened to be. Trying to get the Never Ending Song out of his head, he listened to what she was singing. 

Who the hell was Mr. Grinch? 

The more she sang the song, he got a sinking feeling it was a song she’d made up about him. Mr. Grinch was a cuddly cactus, had a heart full of unwashed socks, a monster, and had an empty hole for a heart. And clearly filled it with the unwashed socks.

All things that described Tom, in a creative childish manner. Except the unwashed sock thing. He had no heart, but did not fill the space with unwashed socks. How unsanitary.   

How did having garlic in his soul make him a grinch? How could he have garlic in his soul? It was impossible. 

Like many of the things in her stupid song. There were no termites in his smile, thank you very much. 

Where did she come up with this insane babble? 

A sea sick crocodile? Could a crocodile be sea sick? 

Oh, wait, she switched songs. Tom listened for a moment and realized she was now singing about never smiling at a crocodile. 

“ _Never smile at a crocodile, never tip your hat and stop to talk awhile! Never run, walk away, say good-night, not good-day. Clear the aisle, but never smile at Mister Crocodile.”_

“CALLIOPE!” Tom bellowed, his voice booming around the library.

He was sure if there was actually someone around to supervise them, her singing and dancing in the library would not be allowed, nor would his daily bellowing at her. Tom actually missed the librarian. 

“TEEEEEE!” she sung loudly back at him, somehow making her voice even louder. He felt the magical pulse behind it hit him square in the forehead. He blinked a few times, feeling silly. Why was he yelling again? “ _We’re tiny, we’re toony, we’re all a little loony and in this cartoony, we’re invading your Teeeeeeee Veeeeeeeee!”_

Ah, yes. 

“SHUT UP.”

Silence rang.

Tom let out a sigh. Glorious silence. 

The door slammed.

She left. Thank god. 

Tom threw up a silence ward around him and waited. So far all the wards he had attempted did not withstand her power. The magic still hit him. After waiting a moment, he felt nothing. Smiling, Tom went back to reading his book, taking detailed notes. The charms he wanted to put on his diary were difficult and he needed to be very careful about which ones he used, due to the fact Dumbledore was now even more suspicious of him. While he had not taken Tom’s diary away, Tom knew Dumbledore was just waiting for him to murder Black or something. 

Too bad she was a pureblood. He’d feed her to his snake in the Chamber in a heartbeat otherwise. Snickering darkly, Tom pulled another book towards him. Black in the Chamber of Secrets….she’s more than likely sing the snake to death. 

Best not feed her to the snake. 

He worked for almost three wonderful hours in silence till he felt the singing. His head fell into his book. He felt her voice’s force dancing over his skin again, tickling him and tell him to go the Great Hall. Growling, he slammed the book shut. It was a very old book, so dust rose up out of it. He quickly stood up and stormed out of the library, slamming the door loudly behind him. He paused for a moment, pulling out his wand. He knew he couldn’t exactly hex the brat (as he was the only student here at the moment, and none of the professors would hex Black due to the fact they failed to find her irritating), but holding his wand allowed him to curse or blow something else up. 

He reached the Entrance Hall, where he found Black, several ghosts and some of the professors and teaching assistants were standing around. He stared, grinding his teeth together. Black stood in the center of the group, dressed in what appeared to be a Louis XIV era male costume. She even wore a white powder wig on her head in the style men wore back then. She seemed to be waiting for something. Dumbledore stood in the doorway to the Great Hall, and wand hanging loosely by his side. Black noticed Tom and smiled.

It was not a smile Tom liked. It was full of mischief. 

Tom hated mischief. 

 _“Má chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invites you to relax, let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents,”_ Calliope sung in a rather bad French accent, backing up into the Great Hall. “ _Your dinner._ ”

Grinning like an idiot, she went on singing as she flounced into the Great Hall. The castles residences all followed her into the dining room. Dumbledore flicked his wand a few times, smiling and twinkling like mad. Tom stomped down the stairs, still clutching his wand. He entered the Great Hall and stopped clenching his jaw. 

Dumbledore somehow charmed the plates, goblets, and silverware to dance. There was something more though as Tom watched. The dinnerware was reacting to Black as she sung, taking on a life of their own past the spell Dumbledore had cast upon them.

How was she doing this?

The adults were all chuckling or looking simply amazed while Black sung her way through the song, which seemed to be about servants serving dinner. (Who would make up a song about servants serving dinner?) Tom had no idea where she’d found the other singing voices, as she seemed to have a whole chorus behind her. He looked around, but no one else was singing. 

Where in the name of sanity had that idiot child learned magic? She had not even been in school for a full month before she exploded out of his diary! How on earth did she have such control over that mysterious voice magic. He could only feel it in a very subtle manner as it pranced across his skin. It didn’t make him feel anything, but he could tell she was putting force into what she was doing by how the things around her were reacting. 

Tom clenched his fists. 

“ _Life is so unnerving for a servant whose not serving, he’s not whole without a soul to wait upon. Ah, those good old days when we were useful. Suddenly those good old days are gone. Ten years, we’ve been rusting, needing so much more than dusting, needing exercise, a chance to use our skills,”_ Black sang out, jumping up on the platform where the Head Table sat. She slumped down suddenly. “ _Most days we just lay around the castle. Flabby, fat and lazy. You walked in and oops-a-daisy_!”

She pretended to trip, falling back down, and vanishing into the crowd of dancing flatware. 

Where did all the dishes come from? 

“You never told me you had a talented sister,” a voice said in Tom’s ear. 

Tom froze, slowly turning to find Slughorn staring into the Great Hall, watching the show Black was putting on for the crowd. 

“Dumbledore told me she was bothering you while you were researching this afternoon, so he helped entertain her,” Slughorn chuckled. “She told him about this clever song. Where does she find all these wonderful Muggle songs?” 

Tom did not bother to answer. He wasn’t about to tell Slughorn Black was from the future and had a whole library in her head of music from her lifetime. At least this song wasn’t one of the five she annoyed him with on a daily basis. 

“Dumbledore said she created the dancing charm for the dishes and flatware. Only failed to have the power to pull it off on this scale,” Slughorn announced. “Guess those genes are strong, huh?”

Tom gave an uncomfortable smile, turning his attention back to the Great Hall, where Black had appeared again. She looked like she was hanging off a light fixture, only there wasn’t one in the Great Hall. Suddenly slightly fearful for some reason, Tom tried to figure out what she was hanging from in the air. She was actually fearful of flying and flat out refused to learn to use a broom. 

Peeves set her down on the Ravenclaw table. 

She got Peeves to help her?!

“ _Be our guest! Be our guest! Please be our guest!”_ Black and her invisible chorus finished. 

The crowd clapped for her and Black beamed, suddenly sweeping her wand out of her sleeve, and the dishes, goblets, and flatware all fell to the table. It looked like the Great Hall was ready for dinner during the school year. Dumbledore appeared and aided Black down from the table, where several other teachers approached the pair to compliment on the pre-dinner entertainment. 

“She’s starting at Hogwarts this fall, correct?” Slughorn questioned, bouncing on his heels while he waited for the crowd around Black to die down. 

“Correct,” Tom replied, trying to keep the anger out of his tone. “I didn’t realize she was a show off.”

“Ho, ho! She’s just a child,” Slughorn said. “I bet she is used to having other children to play with.”

Tom made a non-committed noise. Dumbledore waved his own wand and the tables arranged themselves as they’d been so far all summer, just one table for everyone. Slughorn hurried off to recruit Tom’s dear sister to the Slug Club. Groaning, Tom turned on his heel and stalked off. 


End file.
